


absolution

by laireshi



Category: Avengers (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: (no they aren't together just after the mindwipe), Angst, BDSM, Dom Steve, Getting Back Together, M/M, Sad Porn, Sub Tony, Tony Feels, hickmanvengers, not ssc, that might be a bit unhealthy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-08
Updated: 2015-01-08
Packaged: 2018-03-06 18:10:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3143747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laireshi/pseuds/laireshi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's simultaneously good and not; everything Tony wanted, when he asked for this, but – the cold guilt isn't something he counted on. The masked betrayal in Steve's eyes isn't something he thought he'd see.</p>
            </blockquote>





	absolution

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for beta to [Comicsohwhyohwhy](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Comicsohwhyohwhy/pseuds/Comicsohwhyohwhy) :)
> 
> Uh, so I wrote porn. Sad porn, but still. I blame Hickman, as usual. I also blame my lovely beta.

The light is dim, exactly the way Tony likes it. The room is very warm, but it's good.

When Steve looks at him, full of intent, Tony feels hot all over. He can't seem to gather his thoughts.

Steve is dressed in black pants and a dress shirt, as if he was going to a theatre and just forgot his suit coat. He knows exactly how much Tony likes him in formal wear, of course. He steps to Tony.

“Okay?” he asks, his eyes locked on Tony's.

“Yes,” Tony says.

Steve nods. He reaches to open Tony's shirt. His fingers brush Tony's throat and Tony swallows. He closes his eyes.

Steve cups his jaw roughly. “Look at me,” he orders.

Tony does.

Steve is beautiful, his eyes already too dark. He takes Tony's breath away. He also looks _dangerous_.

Tony loves him.

Steve opens his buttons, one by one. Tony shivers as the silk material slides off his arms and falls to the ground.

Steve ignores it. He presses a kiss to Tony's throat and licks at his pulse point. Tony exhales. He puts his hands in Steve's hair, tries to keep him close, but Steve just straightens and shakes his head at him.

“Stay still,” he says, and takes off Tony's belt. He runs his fingers over the leather, and his smile turns wicked. He presses one end to Tony's collarbone and softly, slowly, slides it down his chest. Tony tenses against himself. The belt is soft, but it's colder than his skin.

Tony wants to feel _more_.

Steve smiles, and wraps it around his forearm. He goes back to undressing Tony. He slides his pants down and presses a kiss to Tony's hip. Steve's shirt stretches dangerously over his back, and it's all Tony can do not to reach out and touch. He's not sure what Steve's planning. He steps out of his pants when Steve gestures him to, glad he's been barefoot already. Steve looks at him with hooded eyes. “Good,” he says.

Tony smiles. He thinks he can move now, and he wants to kiss Steve. He reaches out to touch Steve's cheek, but Steve catches his hand. “Told you to stay still,” he says.

And then he walks around Tony, and Tony _can't look back_.

“What . . .”

There's rush of air for a split moment before the belt connects, and Tony bites at his lips to keep quiet. Steve does it again, and again.

It's nothing they haven't done before, it's just unexpected, sooner than usual in their scenes. Steve is strong; Tony's ass _hurts_ , but he doesn't try to rub it.

He stays silent. He's a little disoriented, but it's okay. Steve has him.

“Kneel,” Steve says, and Tony does.

***

_Tony kisses Steve, smiles against his mouth, nips at his lip. “You promised,” he reminds him._

_Steve wraps his arms around him. “I know,” he says, and then starts sucking on Tony's lower lip._

_Tony's suddenly not sure what they talked about, but it's not important, Steve is here, Steve is kissing him . . ._

_He pushes one knee between Steve's legs, one of his hands on Steve's neck. Steve lets his lips go with a soft bite, and then he spins them around, presses Tony to the wall, keeps his wrist together in one big hand._

_Tony tries to free himself, and can't. It's perfect, he's hard and he wants Steve to do something about it._

_“I love you,” Steve says, mouthing at his neck._

_“I love you too,” Tony says. “Touch me.”_

_Steve shoves his free hand down Tony's pants and Tony arches up into the touch. Steve kisses him to keep him quiet._

_An alarm goes off, and they both freeze for a moment._

_It takes Tony's mind a while to catch up, and—_

_This is not the Avengers alert._

_This one, this one is the one the Illuminati use. He hasn't heard it in a long time._

_Steve lets him go, and they both look at the screen, T'Challa asking them to go to Wakanda._

_“Damn his timing,” Steve says._

_Tony wants to propose to stay for five more minutes, but—T'Challa wouldn't call them for nothing._

_Let it at least be dealt with quickly, he thinks, as he steals another kiss from Steve before going to start the Quinjet._

***

Steve slips his cock between Tony's lips; doesn't wait a second for him to adjust. He fucks into his throat, and Tony sees stars at the back of his eyes. He tries to catch breath; Steve's never been like that before.

Tony can't breathe, and it's nothing like it used to be, something's wrong here.

Steve's hand is tight in Tony's hair. Tony wants to tap out, he's reaching for Steve's hip—no. No.

Tony had been lying to him for months. If Steve—if Steve wants to keep him silent, that's okay. He doesn't deserve to speak anyway.

He can try to apologize without more lies.

Steve steps back before he comes. He looks down on Tony, almost disappointed, and hits him flat in the face.

Tony gulps down breathes of air and is _grateful_.

But when he finally looks up, Steve looks shattered.

“Are you . . .” he asks.

“ _Fine_ ,” Tony gasps out in a hoarse voice.

***

_His eyes are burning, and he firmly tells himself not to cry. He's made his decisions. Now he just has to follow through._

_Cause and effect._

_“I can't do it anymore,” Tony says._

_Across the room from him, Steve is terribly still. He opens his mouth and closes it, like he wants to ask what Tony means, and decides to spare them both that._

_“Why,” he says instead._

_Tony shakes his head. “I can't,” he repeats._

_Anything more, and—_

_He might tell Steve the truth. He can't do that. “You're better off without me.” As close to the truth as he can get._

_“Is this your idea of self-punishment?”_

_Tony freezes. Steve can't know._

_“Is this still about the war?” Steve asks. “Because we talked about it, and . . .”_

_“No,” Tony says. “It's not.”_

_“Then what?” Steve asks. “I thought we had a good thing—tell me.”_

_“And it's over,” Tony snaps, deliberately cold. “We're over.”_

_And Steve would agree with him, if only he remembered._

_“I don't . . .”_

_“It's not your decision,” Tony tells him. “You can't keep it going on your own. People change, Steve. Times change. I guess you never learnt that.”_

_Steve takes a step back as if hit._

_“If that's all,” Tony says, and he hates himself for every word._

I'll find some way to make this right, _all lies._

_***_

Steve's hand is too gentle on his cheek.

Tony wants him to hurt him again. Needs it. And Steve should know it; he's always been good at reading Tony.

There's something in his face that Tony doesn't want to examine now.

It's— _different_.

Different to how it used to be, before. But how can it not be?

“Give me your hands,” Steve whispers. His breath tickles Tony's ear. He obediently reaches his hands out, wrists pressed together.

Steve runs his fingers over Tony's veins, like he's trying to feel his pulse, fluttering rapidly, before he puts cuffs on his wrists and locks them.

They're soft leather; Tony wishes they were something harder, something to leave marks and bite in his flesh.

Steve squeezes his arm until it hurts, and hauls him to his feet. Tony stumbles, falls against Steve, and Steve roughly shoves him away.

“Don't touch me,” he snarls, and it's normal, it's nothing weird, nothing exceptional, nothing he hasn't said before—

But his voice is dark, and Tony knows he should've stayed away.

“Turn back,” Steve orders. Tony listens.

Steve puts a hand between his shoulder blades and pushes him forward. Tony knows better than to lean into his touch.

They stop before the wall, and Steve adjusts the cuffs to the hooks just over Tony's head.

Tony tries to move his hands, and he can't. He's trapped. He's _safe_.

The first touch of the flogger rips through him.

He isn't sure why he yells. He likes it. He likes the pain. He arches into it. But Steve—he's not pulling his strength as much as he used to, and—

Why would he?

It's not like Tony's expecting him to.

Steve touches him with care, runs his fingers delicately over the dark line that must be showing on Tony's back.

“How is it?” he asks, his voice breaking.

“ _Green._ ”

It's simultaneously good and not; everything Tony wanted, when he asked for this, but—the cold guilt isn't something he counted on. The masked betrayal in Steve's eyes isn't something he thought he'd see.

There's no absolution here.

***

_Tony's working on his armour. He doesn't expect anyone to come down._

_And it's—_

_He looks as Steve steps in, alone, but in his Captain America regalia._

_“I'm not sure,” Steve says, “if I shouldn't be grateful.”_

_It's very obvious what he means._

_Tony looks away. “Will it make you let me go?”_

_Steve laughs, and it's ugly. “You've been lying for months.”_

_“I tried not to,” Tony notices quietly. But he never could keep away from Steve, not really._

_“So it was all a lie,” Steve says. “But if you kept lying, why couldn't you—a bit more?”_

_“I couldn't do that to you,” Tony whispers._

_Steve laughs. “Yeah. Because it means so fucking much.”_

_“It's not personal,” Tony says._

_Steve hits him._

***

He's hurting and he's hard and he's not sure what to think; he wants to thank Steve and apologize and he wants to pretend it's okay and he lies to himself he's sure about it, his breathing is too fast and his skin is too hot, oversensitive, he wants to be touched again and dreads it, he climbs on his toes and tries to pull his hands down simultaneously, he's _everything_ —

Steve wraps his arms around him from behind, presses himself to Tony hips to neck.

He still has his shirt on and the buttons dig into Tony's skin. It makes his back flare up with pain again and it's glorious and he thinks he's crying; he wants to stop and to please Steve, and and and—

He can never do that, can he, but it doesn't matter when Steve puts his hand over Tony's mouth to quiet his sobs and then roughly pushes his fingers into him.

Tony tries to step away, but Steve doesn't let him. He moves his hand to Tony's throat, waits a few long breaths.

Tony doesn't say a word, he can't; as long as Steve wants it, and Tony wants it too, only—

He moans helplessly, and Steve chuckles. His breath is hot on Tony's neck. Tony would do everything for him, but Steve doesn't want anything now. He's barely moving his fingers, like a slow torture.

There's no time there, it's an eternity, and Tony's breath is too fast and his nerves are on fire before Steve finally removes his fingers, and Tony's torn between loss and anticipation.

How can Steve be so _patient_ , Tony wants to scream, he needs him . . . Steve pushes into him.

This, this is almost like it used to be, except Tony's glad Steve can't see his face.

***

_“I want to try again,” Steve says, and Tony—_

_He can't mishear him that much, can he. “Why?” he asks, although maybe it should be_ how _; he can understand the whys, the cold bed at night, cold void under his heart, foggy uncertainty in his head, because something's missing from his world._

_He can, possibly, accept that Steve feels like that._

_But how can they ever get back?_

_“We had a good thing,” Steve says, and Tony wants to laugh._

_“Yeah. We did. Before I destroyed it.”_

_“I want to go back there. Skip the destruction this time.” Steve's eyes are terribly blue in the low sunlight. He's just an arm's reach away._

_Tony wants to reach._

_“I've never stopped loving you,” Steve says. “I wished I could.”_

_It's unfair, Tony thinks, how he always knows just the perfect words to make Tony do what he wants._

_Tony takes the step, and puts his hands flat on Steve's chest._

_Steve holds his elbows in a loose grasp, and it's enough to take Tony's breath away._

***

Steve runs his hand down Tony's stomach. Tony isn't sure what he wants him to do, he wants to crawl out of his body, he wants the moment to last forever—

Steve's fingers touch his cock, feather-light, and Tony comes.

He sags on his feet, and Steve holds him up, doesn't let him put any weight on his wrists. Tony isn't sure how long it is before Steve follows. He bites on Tony's shoulder, hard, and it's too much and perfect.

He's fine in this tight space, Steve at his back and his hands bound in front of him, he doesn't want to move, he doesn't want anything, just Steve to never leave, and . . .

Steve kisses the place he just bit before slipping out of him, and Tony wants to sob.

“Shh,” Steve says. He reaches for the cuffs and Tony shakes his head, doesn't want to leave _here_.

“Let me,” Steve says, and what is he talking about; he can do anything.

“Don't leave,” Tony whispers. “I'm sorry, just don't—”

Steve freezes.

***

_It's good. It's as good as it used to be._

_They fight together, and they spend their days together; it's like nothing has changed._

_But Steve touches him like he's fragile, like he could break._

_Tony's the one who should be careful._

_He takes out a pair of hand cuffs and puts them on a table between them one night. “We haven't done that for a long time,” he says. He already imagines Steve's body pressing him down, Steve's strong hands hitting him, Steve's voice telling him what to do._

_Steve's eyes are dark now, but his voice is very composed. “Do you want it?”_

_“I like it,” Tony says. “You like it.” He stops, suddenly unsure. Things change. Steve looks like Tony is right, but . . ._

_“Yes,” Steve breathes._

_“I want it,” Tony says._

_Steve nods. He reaches out and runs his hand over the cuffs. Tony's breath hitches._

_“We have to talk about it,” Steve says, and Tony rolls his eyes; like he doesn't know. Steve smiles now. “You_ are _impatient at times,” he notices as if he read Tony's mind._

 _But there's nothing_ careful _in the way he kisses Tony then._

***

Steve presses a wet wash cloth to Tony's eyes gently and then sits at the edge of the bed.

Tony thinks he should roll onto his stomach, but for now he still reveals in the way his back hurts.

He wants the pain.

“I'm sorry,” Steve says.

Tony shakes his head mutely.

“I wasn't—I should've stopped it,” Steve says.

Tony smiles bitterly. “I wanted you to hurt me. I'm good at tricking you.” He puts his hand over the wash cloth and presses down until he sees bright spots in front of his eyelids. 

“I wanted to hurt you,” Steve says. “I—”

“I wanted you to,” Tony repeats.

“When you asked?” Steve says suddenly.

Tony pushes the cloth off, sits up, ignores how his muscles protest. “No,” he answers, very seriously. “Not then.”

“So what was it, Tony,” Steve whispers. He sounds lost.

Tony doesn't know the answer. He wants Steve to touch him like he cares. He thinks he should tell him to leave, because Tony will just keep using him otherwise. He wants to go back.

He's so selfish, he thinks, as he blindly reaches out a hand in Steve's direction. He doesn't know where they can go from there, but he doesn't want to be alone. 

Steve's touch is soft, like Tony just imagined it.


End file.
